


Don't Eat the Worm

by ImaniJoain



Series: Unlikely Singularities [4]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst and Humor, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-23
Updated: 2017-05-24
Packaged: 2018-11-04 03:59:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10982913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImaniJoain/pseuds/ImaniJoain
Summary: Nothing tops off a bad day, or a bad week, like tequila and unlicensed home improvement. Except maybe unsolicited job offers and questionable nutritional choices. *Takes place 10/19/16





	1. The Secret

**_October 19, 2016_ **

  

“This is crazy.”

 “You’re crazy.”

 “Yeah, obviously, or I wouldn’t be going along with this. We should stop.”

 “You should stop.”

 “That doesn’t even make sense, Darcy.”

 “You’re a towel.”

 From the corner of her eye, Darcy watched Jane throw up her hands in exasperation and just stare at the enormous mess they had made in the old showroom. The kitchen - where life-giving sustenance like eggs, pop-tarts, beer, and cereal lived - had been kept safe from the mayhem by taping sheets of painter’s plastic to the ceiling and floor. The fold-out couch that Erik slept on when he was in town was also covered in plastic, as was all of Jane’s equipment and the computers. The door to Jane and Thor’s room, also known as the big office of long-time lovin’, was firmly closed with a towel shoved under the door. Darcy’s room, referred to - by those who didn’t enjoy being able to touch all four walls without moving their feet - as Satan’s wardrobe, had received similar treatment. It was all part of Darcy’s plan to keep the demolition dust out of their food and off of surfaces where a person might conceivably have sex or do complex maths. Both were an actuality for Jane, but a concept for Darcy. She had no desire to do complex maths and sex was a sadly distant memory more dust-covered than the room itself.

The plan had not included any foresight on how they were going to get to their food now that it was cordoned off, nor what they were going to put over the floor after they had finished smashing and ripping out the hideous and suspiciously moldy tile from the bathroom to prevent shards of asbestos-adjacent décor from stabbing their feet. Although not specifically listed as part of the plan, it was understood that it was less about home remodeling and more about working out aggressions from a shitty, shitty week. As Darcy swung the surprisingly heavy claw hammer against the wall again, sending another blast of probably toxic dust into the air to coat the showroom and the death rattle of her sex life, Jane covered her sixth shot with her hand so that it would stay sanitary.

“What are you doing?” Darcy huffed under the tea towel she had tied over her nose and mouth to keep the cancer particles away. Her eyes were covered with ‘protective’ knock-off Oakleys. With the exception of the sling supporting her left arm, she figured she was the most creatively stylish contractor in all of Puente Antigo. Jane had gone a different direction by putting on her welding mask.

“Uh, not destroying our only access to toilet and showering facilities?”

“With that.” She pointed a gloved hand - the gloves were striped winter knits, not exactly work wear, but Darcy was serious about remaining blister free - at Jane’s shot.

Jane passed it under her mask and threw it back. “I don’t know what you’re referring to.”

“What happened to my drink?”

“You drank it.”

“The one after that.”

“You drank it too.”

“What about-”

“I didn’t pour that one because the dust was getting bad and it would have contaminated the tequila.”

Darcy stared at Jane. Jane stared at Darcy. It lasted for a full minute. “What’s your IQ again? It’s _tequila_ , Jane. It’s already contaminated with the poison called alcohol and the fumes of poor decisions.”

“Poor decisions like ripping up our only bathroom?”

“It was just…” Darcy turned and stared back at the havoc they had wrought. As far as coping mechanisms went, she maybe could have come up with something less destructive.

To be fair, Jane had agreed that they should do this. And she had been the first one to swing the hammer. And the bathroom was pretty awful. But maybe they should have stopped with the floor tile instead of moving on to the backsplash. And then probably they shouldn’t have decided the shower tiles needed go to. And, yeah, even though the ceiling in the bathroom was ridiculously low compared to the rest of the building, and yeah, Thor - and even Erik - had to stoop to get their hair under the showerhead, they definitely shouldn’t have pulled down the sheetrock. But there was no reason that they couldn’t stop now. No reason to make a bad thing worse. No matter how ugly the wallpaper was, they did not have to take down the walls. Even if it was really, really ugly. Even if Jane had been having a really, really bad day. And Erik was visiting the University, where she couldn’t go anymore, so she couldn’t talk science with him. And Thor was in the desert communing with Heimdall, so no big muscles were around for hugs, or anything else. And Darcy knew Jane was so tired of secluding herself in the ghost town that Puente Antigo had become just because every time she got a little overwhelmed she exploded things. Or smashed things. Or accidently teleported. Just a tiny bit.

Darcy’s most recent trip to California had been less than stellar. The only member of the thesis committee who had the security clearance to review her source material had been called to Washington for a consultation, so her defense would be delayed. Tony Stark had crashed the girls’ night she had planned with Pepper; the desserts that Pepper sent home with her as an apology were delicious and expensive, but not as good as watching a bad movie and complaining about trade tariffs. Her Little Sister was being removed from another foster home. And, oh yeah, she had been shot and nearly trapped in a burning building. Darcy refused to even contemplate the awkward and absolutely mortifying rescue turned brush off that had been her first ever encounter with Captain America. Although he hadn’t been wearing the suit, so she supposed it was an encounter with Steve Rogers, which made the brush off even more embarrassing, since the dude was like a hundred years old and a wanted fugitive so -

And there she was thinking about it again. _Damnit. Stupid brain. Stupid hormones. Stupid square jaws and big hands and conviction to the ideals that make up the foundation of an equitable working governance by the people for the - God Damnit!_

The minute she had returned to the showroom, Darcy had taken one look at Jane and known her best friend/landlord/quasi-employer wasn’t doing well. So, she had come up with the plan. One: Drink Tequila. B: Eat doggie bags of tiny cheesecakes from Pepper Potts. Three: There hadn’t actually been a three until the drinking had commenced and then the subsequent conversation about the disgustingness of the bathroom. Which was followed by the painter's plastic. And so on. And so on. It had seemed logical at the time.

“Yeah,” Jane sighed. “It _was_ just.”

Darcy’s arm was aching somewhere on the far side of her buzz, and she reminded herself to get out the saran wrap before she washed her hair because she couldn't get the stitches wet. “Holy fuck,” Darcy blurted out. “Where the hell are we going to shower tomorrow?”

Jane started laughing. Once she started she couldn’t seem to stop and then Darcy joined in. “To hell with it,” the scientist wheezed. “Let’s go to the roof.”

“Sure,” Darcy snagged the bottle of tequila and her shot glass, hiccupping between giggles. “Sounds like a great place to really get our problem solving hats on.”

It took Jane three tries to get up the ladder. Darcy was a little better, even one-handed, but she gave up on getting the umbrella open and they both would have died of inevitable third degree sunburns if Jane hadn’t taken the initiative and set up life-saving shade over their two lawn chairs. Lunch came and went, with only the liquor, a shared bottle of water, and a still sealed package of stale goldfish crackers someone had left on the roof. By two o’clock Darcy was starving and wishing she could take her pain pills with alcohol.

“How come- I mean,” Darcy restarted, fumbling through her brain for grammar. “Why is it that you don’t know how to cook?”

Jane stopped idly spinning her telescope and leaned back in her chair. “Because I grew up with my mom who can order takeout like a boss and thinks kitchens are places where menus and wine are stored.”

“Eh. She’s not wrong.”

“Why can’t you cook?”

“Because Sheryl hired a personal chef as soon as she and my mom moved in together when I was like, five? And cause my dad is so seriously anal about his brand of whipping cream I wasn’t allowed to do grocery shopping at his house until - well, actually he still won’t let me.”

“There’s more than one kind of cool whip?”

“Not cool whip, my dude. Whipping cream. It’s like, the stuff cool whip would be made from, if it wasn’t actually all delicious preservatives and flavorings created in a lab.”

“I could really go for some cool whip.” Jane’s stomach rumbled. “Or some whipping cream.”

“No, don’t go there. It is not a good place. Some serious shit has to go down before whipping cream is ready for pie topping and ice cream sunday goodness. Trust me on this. Learn from my mistakes, young padawan.”

“I could really go for some pie.” The alcohol had been fun at first, but after a few hours Jane was starting to be less carefree buzzed and more melancholy drunk. “Do you think Thor would find us some pie? I mean, if he comes back today,” she mumbled the last part.

“Jane Foster, PhD,” Darcy admonished, “Thor will be back in like, the next twenty minutes. Hour tops. And when he gets back there will be delicious, over-processed foodstuffs, lots of water, painkillers, and mind-blowing sex. Sex for you, painkillers for me, just so we’re clear. No sex for my poor, neglected, dusty…libido.”

“No, I got it.” Jane’s eyes were closed but she began to smile.

“And after the painkillers and sex, we are going out into the desert to work on your projection and deflection skills. You are going to own that Aether shit. You will be a bad ass mother fucker, and then we are going to look at the stars and solve all the maths. So. No. More. Moping.” She punctuated each word by flinging a goldfish at Jane’s face.

“Okay, okay!” Jane laughed. “Just don’t-”

She was interrupted by the distant sound of a vehicle, and they both sat up. Since Loki had sent the Destroyer and a big part of the town had sustained structural damage, Puente Antigo was not the small, sleepy town it once was. It was smaller. Less sleepy and more catatonic. Point of fact, the only residents left were Jane, Darcy, Thor, sometimes Erik, and a dozen people too nuts or stubborn to leave even after the government (read, SHIELD) declared the area a security site and made it next to impossible to hire contractors or receive much needed insurance payouts. A vehicle coming into town was rare enough to make everyone notice.  Darcy walked carefully over to the edge and shaded her eyes. Turning the corner of main street was Jane’s van; Thor was mashed in behind the wheel like a clown at the Shrine Bowl.

“See, your prince charming has returned. And-” Darcy squinted, trying to see through the dusty windshield, “I’m pretty sure he got groceries.”

“I think I’m in love.” Jane flopped onto her stomach with a silly grin.

“Great. Now get down the ladder and use your feminine wiles to get some scrambled eggs out of that man. And maybe pancakes. Or waffles. Oooo - do you think he bought sausage?”

It turned out Thor had got groceries, but he forgot both syrup and cool whip. Although neither Darcy nor Jane fessed up that it hadn’t actually been on the list. It also turned out that Jane could not get down the ladder after copious amounts of tequila, so it was determined they would have a late lunch/early supper on the roof. Darcy _could_ get down the ladder, even with her bum arm because she was practically a superhero, so she volunteered to walk down to the gas station and see if they had syrup. She figured walking was a lot safer than driving in her condition, and it gave Thor time to see Jane through the touchy-feely portion of her inebriation.

Out of sight of Jane and a deceptively insightful Asgardian hunk, Darcy popped in her earbuds and let her smile drop. She was nearly finished with her graduate program, which was great and all, _Go Me_ , but there weren’t a lot of job opportunities out there for a Master of Dispute Resolution and Public Policy. There certainly wasn’t much call for one in Puente Antigo. But Jane was committed to staying there. It was close enough to New Mexico State University, where Erik was working, to keep an eye on him and it had great night sky views for her research. It was only a short cheap flight to UCLA and Stark Industries West, both of which had given Jane grants. Darcy had no problem flying out every two or three weeks to present Jane’s research and pick up equipment. Most importantly to Jane, it was far, far away from anything she could destroy.

After the Convergence, Jane had been ecstatically happy. Universities and think tanks were calling her left and right to jump on her theories. Offers for grant funding flowed like water. Thor came back from Asgard after only a couple of days and promised he was on Earth to stay.

Then Jane and Darcy were walking down to the pub to meet Erik and Thor when a mugger grabbed Darcy’s bag. She couldn’t get to her taser, so settled for kicking at his shins and cursing up a storm. During the struggle, the dude had pulled a knife and lunged for the women. There was a shriek, and a scream, and a spray of blood. Then Darcy was slumped on the ground, her cheek and neck wet, liquid dripping in her hair. Jane was shaking, bits of red mist clinging to her clothes and open palms. The mugger’s throat was slashed. His knife lay on the sidewalk, pristine and unused.

London police had questioned them for a long time, but none of the security cameras had caught anything more than a struggle and the flash of the man’s knife. Darcy was between Jane and the mugger, so they didn’t see how the scientist could have been responsible. Between Darcy’s light concussion and the lack of her fingerprints on the knife there was reasonable doubt in her favor. It helped that a sudden storm washed away a lot of the evidence, and several heavy-hitters in the British government were very happy they were not currently under Dark Elf rule. Within twenty-four hours Darcy was on her way back to the U.S., escorting Erik and all of Jane’s equipment, while Thor took Jane off-world for a check-up.

Much later, the nature of Infinity Stones were explained to Darcy, in very simple terms, by Thor. She understood that they were beyond powerful and had some seriously bad mojo. But Malikith had removed the Aether from Jane, and it was destroyed. Darcy was there. She saw Thor kick ass. Jane had looked fine afterwards. Exhausted, which, hello, who wasn’t, and a little more underweight than usual, but overall fine. None of them had expected that there would be side effects.

Which, Darcy thought as she kicked a stone down the sidewalk and rounded the block toward the gas station, was kind of stupid on their part. Jane had had a piece of the creation of the Universe inside her for _days_ and everyone had been like, ‘eh, drink plenty of fluids’. As if the power to destroy all light and life was comparable to the stomach flu. After the mugger, the Allfather himself had examined Jane, and determined that while she was not the Aether, she was not _not_ the Aether either. It had gotten into her blood, into her genes, and left her different than she was before.

Jane had not taken the news well. Upset and frightened, Jane had thrown several healers through a wall and then disappeared, only to reappear next to Heimdall on the bridge. The verdict had been that there was no curing Jane, she just needed to learn control. Thor vowed that he would not leave her until she felt safe with herself. In the three years since, he had never been gone for more than one night.

With the exception of Tony Stark’s egomaniacal robot child bent on human eradication.

The big guy got a weekend pass to take care of that snafu. But when Tony called about the Accords, Thor had told him in no uncertain terms that unless the world was ending, he was busy. And that if any government agents or news crews showed up in New Mexico looking for him, Tony would be meeting the business end of Mew-mew. He also said that Earth politics were not something that he would interfere with, as only the Allfather could impose law upon Thor Odinson. Darcy understood where he was coming from, on a macro-scale, but the dude still couldn’t get a legal ID. It made buying beer anywhere but Puente Antigo an exercise in hilarity. So he sort of was compelled to follow some Earth laws.

Three years they had been in New Mexico. Darcy had her school work and a kick-ass new friendship with _the_ Pepper Potts, plus 24/7 access to green chili, so she was copacetic. She even signed up for the Big Sister/Big Brother program in LA and got a seriously cool little person to hang out with. Mostly she reinforced not to do drugs and to stay in school and then they ate yummy things. But there was also the occasional very, very harsh words with an unsympathetic school counselor and the liberal slinging of Pepper and Tony’s names once in the Child Protective Services Office when Maria had gotten a really, really bad foster family. But life for Darcy was good overall.

It was Jane she was worried about. She didn’t seem to be getting better. She had gained more control, and could do some things on demand with her power, but she also still woke up a couple of times a month in the middle of the desert. And once in her mom’s London flat; Thor had to fly her home to avoid customs issues. It was wearing the scientist down too. She loved Thor, obviously. And her work was still her motivation in life, but she was depressed. Darcy knew it wasn’t good for her friend to only speak to three other people - four if you counted her teleconferences with her SI lab monkey. What they had been doing wasn’t working, but Darcy wasn’t sure what else they _could_ do. _We could always try the power of positive thinking,_ she thought dryly as she pushed open the gas station door.

“Roberto, my man!” She called out over the music blasting into her ears. Roberto didn’t look up from his phone, so Darcy continued through the small store to the tiny grocery section. There were travel size bottles of ‘maple flavored’ syrup - she got one for her and one for Jane and six for Thor - and no cool whip. But Roberto did stock a couple of spray cans of ‘Crema Mullida’ which had a hip cow in sunglasses for a mascot, so Darcy took them both.  She had to pound her fist on the counter to get his attention, and when he finally turned he pointed his thumb out the window.

“You see that black helicopter?”

Darcy glanced out into the growing twilight. They hadn’t got many flybys since SHIELD fell, but one could never be too careful. She texted Jane a heads up. “Yeah, man, I see it.”

“Fucking government,” Roberto muttered, then devolved into a tirade that was mostly in Spanish and aimed at the conspiracy between the FBI and Big Insurance. Darcy nodded in commiseration as she left.  

The problem was, she decided, getting back on track as she walked outside and opened the first can of Crema Mullida, that they needed someone who had experience with alien substances. Or experience with genetic mutation. Or experience with uncontrollable emotional issues. Darcy sprayed her mouth full of fake Mexican cool whip and swished it around thoughtfully. She knew, or rather Thor knew, someone with some rage problems.  Dr. Banner also had genetic experimentation in his wheelhouse too. His cache of degrees and accolades - pre-Hulk - would also put Jane into nerdish, raptur-y science excitement, so that would have been a plus. But he was unavailable for the time being.

 _The Heavy_ came up on her playlist and she took it as sign that it was time to move on from New Mexico. Darcy swallowed with conviction. She went to spray another mouthful, only then noticing that her Mullida was six months expired. _Worth the risk_ , she decided. Tongue coated with questionable sugary dairy-like product and head swirling with possible ways to get Jane back into the land of the living and herself into the realm of gainfully employed, Darcy didn’t pay much attention to the sleek helicopter parked next to Jane’s van.


	2. The Fumes of Bad Decisions

**_October 19, 2016_ **

 

“Friday, are we there yet?”

“No, Boss.”

“When will we get there?”

“At the same time as when you asked me five minutes ago.”

Tony paused, gauging when enough seconds had passed to lull his AI into a false sense of security. “Friday, are we-“

“I do not see the point of this exercise, Boss.”

“So, you feel annoyed already?”

“You specifically programmed me not to become exasperated, frustrated, or otherwise irritated by repeated requests, regardless of the importance of said request. I am simply not certain how your imitation of a child in an effort to elicit an emotional response from me will demonstrate your capacity, or lack thereof, to parent.”

“You _are_ annoyed.” Tony couldn’t decide if he was delighted that he had managed to get under Friday’s skin, so to speak, or disappointed in the results. He adjusted his sunglasses and smoothed the crease in his slacks with an air of authority. There was no one to see the mannerism but Friday, but it was important that she knew who was in charge. “It is a simple enough experiment, dear girl. I made you, therefore, you represent the best, most idealistic version of myself. If that version of me can’t handle the attitude of a four-year old, then there is no way that I ever could. Ergo, I would be a bad parent.” Tony thumbed across the thick manuscript in his lap. He had read it, the whole thing. It was on paper. Real paper. With ink, and notes scrawled in the margins. There were coffee stains. God knew how many people had touched it. But he had read it. Four times. Then pulled it apart and read some sections over again. He might never get the feeling of cheap copy paper off of his hands.

“The best version of you is a woman?”

“Check your misogyny at the door, I don’t allow that kind of thing at Stark Enterprises.”

“You no longer work at Stark Enterprises.”

“Exactly. But seriously, Friday, how long until we get there?”

“We are fifteen minutes out, and it appears that the weather will on the cool side this evening. I recommend you bring your jacket.”

“Tell me again why it is that Foster chooses to live in Satan’s left boot? And why this Lewis person followed her here?”

“I have not met Dr. Foster, Boss, but Ms. Lewis seems quite dedicated to her friends. It is a most admirable quality.”

“Oh. My. Stars and Garters. You like her.” Tony stared wide eyed at the helicopter console.

“Boss, I do not believe,” Friday began in a tone that was no doubt meant to quash his enthusiasm. It failed.

“You do! You made a little friend. That is so cute! Do U and DUM-E know? They’ll be jealous. Do you two stay up all night talking about boys when she’s in Malibu?”

“No.” There was a long pause. “We braid each other’s hair.”

Tony caught his breath and then laughed so hard he slapped his knee. “Priceless. I think I might love you more than Jarvis. As long as you keep that sass under your hat when we’re in mixed company. Can’t have you ruining my image.”  The helicopter began to descend, and Tony took in the sight of a town either in the middle of rebuilding, or halfway through demolishing, almost every structure. It was a tough call which way would be easier.  They circled, coming down just south of a mid-century modern car dealership. An ancient van, sporting satellite and monitoring equipment Tony would have been embarrassed to have seen in his dumpster, was parked outside.  As the rotors slowed down, he became aware of some extremely loud music coming from the building.

“No one appears to be inside, Boss, but there are two heat signatures on the roof. Waiting for a few minutes-“

“No can do, Friday. Thanks. People to bribe, legislation to tear up. I wait for no man.” He grabbed the manuscript and opened the door. There were no stairs, but a metal ladder was bolted to the side of the building. He guessed it wasn’t intended for regular use, as it ended five feet off the ground. A small step stool had been positioned underneath to reduce the gap. An unholy, but strangely harmonious, pairing that sounded like Santana and the horn section of the New York Symphony grew loud enough to bother even his ears as he crested the top. A huge satellite dish, scattered equipment and parts, and an old cooler created a maze he had to weave through. He aimed for a faded canvas beach umbrella, useless since the sun had set already. The whole place had an air of impoverished chic that did nothing for Tony but distract him with ideas for how he could improve the equipment.

He found the stereo first. An actual stereo. With a cassette deck. He turned it off with a decisive, disgusted flick and was promptly surprised with a scream and a heavy object to the head. It knocked him back into the satellite dish, which was fortunate as he needed the extra stability for a moment. The blow to the head was followed by a giant hammer swinging through the air inches from his face. The breeze from its passing actually knocked his sunglasses askew.

“Tony!” The hammer disappeared. Tony managed to verify that his pulse was still in working order – far higher than his cardiologist recommended, but working. His face didn’t feel great. He was pretty sure his mouth was bleeding. “It is good to see you, my friend! What brings you to the Newer Mexico?”

There were a few things that Tony needed to process with that greeting. He was not ashamed to admit that his IQ was not quite high enough to manage all of them without taking a beat to organize his thoughts. He had, after all, most likely been concussed.

Thor was completely naked for starters. Tony had never been particularly bothered by his own size, he was only a couple of inches shorter than average and money, looks, and charm made up the difference. Thor didn’t seem at all self-conscious either. Without clothes he looked ever bigger than normal. Arms the size of some trees in New York and a chest diameter that any bear would be proud of. Tony was tempted, for the sake of science, to take some field measurements – purely for research purposes – but he managed to hold himself back thinking about how proud Pepper would be of his restraint. And also how he might accidently be knocked unconscious if Thor began swinging that thing around.

“Thor,” he managed in his serious voice.

“What the hell!” The broken shout was uttered by a small woman who dashed out from behind Thor. Her plaid shirt was at least four sizes too big and buttoned wrong. He recognized Jane Foster from her SHIELD file and the cover of IEEE Spectrum. Electrical engineers had a real hard on for her portal technology. “Goddamnit, Stark! You broke my telescope!”

“I feel that I should point out that it broke my face, so we’re probably even. It may even owe me, my face is worth quite a bit.” He eyed the angry scientist, noting that her eyes were extremely dark and her skin had an eerie glow, reddish, as if she was flushed with a fever. Or a plague. Tony took a casual step to the side, slipping his hand into his suit pocket for his mobile phase glove, and placing more of Thor between him and the doctor. “Have you considered putting a warning note on it? Something like, ‘beware the telescope, it pummels’? Personally I wouldn’t put up with that kind of attitude in my technology. Sass, yes. Independent thought, of course. Overzealous use of flame retardant, occasionally. But violent tendencies? I mean, in a toaster, maybe, but never in optical equipment.”

“You arrogant-“

“Jane,” Thor spoke softly, as softly as he ever did, and spread his hands, placating. “It was an accident. Tony is not seriously injured. And I can attest that he has a very hard head.”

“It…” She looked up and the light from the Christmas strands on the underside of the umbrella caught her face. Her eyes were solid black. A dark red wash of blood moved under the flesh of her face, ebbing and flowing randomly. Tony took a careful breath.

“Jane.” Thor’s huge hands covered her shoulders and most of her upper arms. She sagged under the touch, as if the pressure had been let out of her. With a ragged inhale she closed her eyes. When they reopened, they were normal.

“What do you want, Stark?” She asked calmly. “Other than to buy me a new telescope.”

“Not interested in you, Space Ace.” He pulled his hand from his pocket and scrubbed it through his hair as though he hadn’t been prepared to blast her straight off the roof. “Looking for your minion.” He waved the manuscript around. “Glasses. Built like a centerfold. Probably eating my stolen cheesecake.” Thor frowned at the centerfold comment, either because he didn’t get it or because he _did_ get it. Jane’s eyes narrowed and her lips pursed. For some reason, he found it almost as unsettling as the night-eye psychotic break she had just experienced.

“Why do you seek Lady Darcy?” Thor asked.

At the same time Jane stated, “She’s not my minion. She’s a part-time assistant. And I’m not telling you jack until I know why you’re here.”

“Hello.” Stark waved the manuscript again. “Obviously.”

“You tend to blow up shit, Stark. And people I love tend to have to help you clean it up,” she nodded at Thor. As if it was necessary. “I don’t like that. So you will explain what you want with Darcy or I will make certain you never get to speak to her.”

Tony debated his options for about three seconds, wondering what the over-under was for him surviving the wrath of Foster until he could get the suit, which was back in the helicopter. He gave himself pretty good odds unless Thor got in the mix. Weighing his determination to see this through against his ingrained, at the genetic level, need to be a dick, Tony opened his mouth.

“Hey, my dudes! So I smell not the heavenly aroma of breakfast for dinner – or as the cool kids say, Brekinner. Which is sacrilege of the highest order, since I was specifically told that there would be sausages and fluffy buttermilk carbs. _And_ I brought home all the most calorific pancake toppings. I got like, all the syrup Roberto had. Well, syrup flavored stuff. And two – okay – one can of fake cool whip. So let’s get this party star-” Darcy Lewis, graduate student, part-time assistant, and friend of the terrifyingly capable Pepper Potts, jumped into view doing a uncoordinated shoulder jiggle and carrying a plastic bag and a spray can of a dairy product that Tony was highly certain did not actually contain any milk. Her blue eyes went wide behind her glasses.

“-ted. Ahem. So. Are we having company? Should I dig out the good china?”

“Lady Darcy,” Thor began, apparently unconcerned with her unorthodox entrance or the situation as a whole. “I would like to present my friend, To-”

“Tony Stark, yeah. I got that. Thanks. Um. I think the real question here, one we are all probably asking ourselves, is: Why. In the name. Of all that is good and right. In this world. Is Jane not wearing pants?”

Tony Stark did not glance over his shoulder. He desperately, desperately wanted to, but the image of a disproving Pepper and a magical hammer crushing his balls kept his gaze firmly on Lewis. There was a sound of embarrassment, and Thor quietly suggested that he would take ‘lovely Jane’ down to their room to find clothes. It was an act of supreme self-control that he did not turn around.

“Tony Stark,” he said instead, nodding and smiling as if lots of his business meetings went this way. It didn’t happen a lot, a lot. But more than probably Pichai or Buffett had to deal with. He shoved his hands in his pockets to keep her from touching him or trying to hand him any of her clearly not-actually food items. “I’m here to talk about your thesis on the Sokovian Accords.”

“Darcy Lewis.” She made a gesture with the spray can vaguely reminiscent of a curtsey. “I did not steal your cheesecake. Pepper gave it to me.”

“Oh. Well then. Do you have any left?”


	3. Voted Most Likely to be Culpable in an Arson

**_October 19, 2016_ **

 

Darcy chewed slowly. Not because she was savoring her pancake-wrapped sausage, and she was because – hot damn – Thor was as good at making breakfast as he was at letting his jeans slide down to show off those angle-divot parts that real people never had next to their hipbones. She was pretty sure they were just photo shopped onto actors. She chewed slowly because she really, seriously, needed the extra few seconds to think about what she had just heard. Tony Stark wanted her help. To get the band back together and figuratively shove the Accords up Secretary Ross’ ass. If it was possible to spontaneously experience audial hallucinations – outside of LSD, she figured she might be smack in the middle of one.

“Is it conceivable for you to stop masticating like a mentally challenged water buffalo and give me an answer? Yes would be preferable, in case you weren’t sure. Yes? Yes.” Tony Stark nodded decisively and straightened his already straight sunglasses. The damn things probably cost more than Jane’s van. “Excellent. If you have an overnight bag we can…” He glanced around the showroom. Thor had torn down the plastic over the kitchen in order to cook, and everything else was covered in a fine layer of off-white dust. “Never mind. Friday can have a card issued for you from my account by the time we hit New York. You can replace…everything. All the things.”

“Calm down.” Jane offered that directive as she licked syrup off of her fingers. It was an activity that Thor approved of highly, if the way he was avidly following her motions was anything to go by.  Darcy was used to it. Envious, but inured. “You need to give her a minute,” Jane’s eyes narrowed, her hands less sticky and her expression serious. “While she is thinking over your suspiciously generous offer, you can explain to me how her thesis evolved into Darcy moving to New York.”

“Foster, come on, you’re a bright kid-“

“Call me kid again and you’ll be regretting it from another dimension.”

It was mostly bluff. Darcy had been with Jane every step of the way since they saw their first bifrost in action, and Jane did not have the technology to teleport anyone. _Yet_. It was possible, Darcy mused to give herself something not-Tony related to focus on, that Jane could accomplish the same thing with her Aether-ness. But she would have to be really worked up. Epically mad. Shooting lasers from her eyes and breathing the hard breathes of the incensed type of furious.

_Kind of like that_ , she thought.

Jane was about ten seconds from flipping the table and/or removing Tony forcibly from the building. It was probably only Thor’s huge hand rubbing soothing circles on her back that kept the small woman from doing any damage. Tony was rambling, attempting to look uninterested, but fingering something in his pocket that Darcy was sure could give Jane a run for her money. Or possibly destroy the few things still in decent condition in Puente Antigo. She mostly tuned them out. Thor would be able to play mediator, if it came to that, and Darcy was still processing.

“-perspective that I hadn’t considered. It is the simplicity of it that is so intriguing, of course.”

“No doubt you have demon pits full of lawyers who could-” Jane began.

“Not pits so much as expensive midtown real estate. Maybe they could have – they should have, certainly. But they didn’t. I have a problem that needs solved, so I want the best to deal with it. Usually that’s Pepper. Sometimes it is a team of publicists and attorneys that could suck the marrow from a kitten and convince you they were doing the cat a favor. Today it is a tipsy minion in a, what _is_ that short stack?” He eyed her carefully, his mouth twisting as if he had bit into a lime without sans tequila. “Ah, you’ve got to be kidding me. Okay. Today it is a tipsy minion in fake Oakleys and a Pym Tech t-shirt. That has to go, by the way. In an incinerator. ASAP.” The look of disgust on the billionaire’s face was priceless. He actually clutched her manuscript to his chest as if to armor himself against the offending garment.

“Why should she?”

Slowly, smoothly, with two decades of practice at being an entitled douche, Tony used his index finger to lower his sunglasses. “Excuse me?”

“It’s your mess, Stark. You and Mr. American Pie are responsible, so why should anyone else clean up your shit?”

“Ah, because I saved the world? A bunch?”

“Three times, Stark. Quit milking it.”

“Four,” Thor corrected quietly.

“Five,” Tony insisted.

“Whatever. Darcy did my laundry once. Doesn’t mean I’m giving her a free pass on the bathroom demolition.” Darcy had actually forgotten about the bathroom. That was going to be a bitch to take care of.

“A little bit bigger deal, but oh-kay,” Tony muttered.

“You can’t just take her away without her consent. And what if Darcy doesn’t like it there? Can she just break this employment contract at any time, and you’ll fly her home? Why does she have to work at your skyline erection, _at all_? Ever heard of telecommuting?”

“Fine, Foster. You win this round. I’ll move you as well so you can keep an eye on your gal pal.” He eyed Thor, and then Jane. Darcy could see it coming even if Jane didn’t. There was a reason Jane was no longer allowed to negotiate funding contracts. “And if you want to bring Point Break with, I suppose I can find room for him. But you’ll have to earn his food allowance, I’m not running a halfway house for wayward aliens! I’ll take payment in patentable technology.”

Tony and Jane continued to bicker, Tony working toward getting everything he wanted and layering it all with sarcasm and pointed comments regarding Thor’s hair. Jane seemed oblivious to his endgame and instead focused on her real concern: Darcy might leave.

Darcy got it. Jane had three people in the world she trusted herself to be around. Three people, and Darcy would never, not for all the tea in China or all the whipped cream in Older Mexico, leave Jane to figure things out by herself. Jane might have once been her boss, but it had been years since they had become best friends. There was no way Darcy was leaving Jane, so she ignored the argument all together.

Tony was correct. She would never, ever, _ever_ tell him that, but it was true. The Avengers had saved the world, outright, more than once. And multiple times they had curtailed smaller issues that could have become something bigger. Darcy was also bright enough to know that for every incident she was aware of there were probably a dozen that had never become public knowledge. The world needed the Avengers. If Thor’s suspicions about the Infinity Stones were true, then all of the previous invasions and psychopaths and secret organizations hell-bent on ruling Earth were no more than a B-grade preview. The world needed the Avengers. Needed them to be able to act decisively and quickly. Needed their unwavering sense of right and good.

Tony’s sense of right and good. For all of the mistakes that he had made, they had never been done with anything less than a clear moral compass and a justifiable dose of fear. And, Darcy felt it was a pretty good guess, some serious psychological trauma. He just needed someone to reign him in occasionally, they all did. Oversight by a government or governments was a terrible idea. She had postulated and proved that fairly succinctly in the first sixty pages of her thesis. Pushing the Avengers to act individually, or even in small groups, in a vacuum was even worse. She had devoted an entire section to the social psychology that layered decision making within the Avengers pseudo-hierarchical structure. That was a work of organizational theory deserving of its own manuscript.

All of that aside. Even when Darcy managed to shove the wellspring of fear that threatened to bubble up out of her when she thought about Jane’s Aether and the power that was reaching through the universe towards them, she still thought the Accords needed to be dissolved. Not heavily amended, as Tony was suggesting she attempt, but dissolved. Voided. Nullified. Abolished. Reversed. Quashed. And a whole lot of other words she would think of later that all meant she wanted to find every copy on every hard drive and piece of paper in existence, pile them in front of Liberty Hall and light a fucking match.

The Accords were an affront to personal liberty and natural order in its highest developed form. The Avengers were the symbol of human achievement, an ideal to strive for and accomplish goals in that effort. They were strength, used not to force others to take a knee, but to pull them up. Of their own free will they had defended those too weak to do so themselves and asked nothing in return but to be allowed the freedom to live their lives and to act again if it became necessary. They were the expression of the right of defense in the face of injustice.

Of course, she would never say any of those things to Tony. He would probably snicker. Or barf. And Darcy would be incredibly embarrassed to go all Locke-nerd in front of him and Jane. Thor would get it. He had an impressive education in governance theory, which made sense. If he hadn’t given up the throne he would have been expected to rule for a few millennia.

“-what? Zubrin destroyed that line of reasoning!” Tony pulled out his phone. “We’ll call him right now and-”

“Oh, it’s all about the money and the networking with you, Stark. This is about the _science_!” Jane was vibrating with outrage and Darcy had completely lost track of the situation. It was like babysitting children. On minute they were arguing over the merits of honey versus jam and the next there were twenty-three peanut butter sandwiches on the floor.

“This is how we get ants,” she interrupted. Both Tony and Jane turned to stare at her. Thor smiled and nodded encouragingly. “So. I will consider your offer.” She pointed at Stark and ignored his pleased grin. He immediately pressed a button on his phone and everyone could hear the helicopter warming up. “And I will not be leaving Jane and Thor, nor will they be living in your monstrous defilement of an iconic skyline with phallus worship. Also, we need to discuss my benefits package with Pepper, so we’re not going to New York just yet. Friday,” she said, hoping the AI would hear through Tony’s phone, “we are headed to Malibu.”

“Of course, Ms. Lewis.”

“Pepper doesn’t need to see your contract,” Tony said, a little too hastily. “She doesn’t work for me anymore, so she wouldn’t be interested. It’s a breach of ethics, or something equally moral sounding.”

“That’s why we’re going to talk to her.” Darcy stood and washed her hands before searching for her shoulder bag. It had her pain pills, backup phone battery, and her emergency travel essentials: a candy bar and clean underwear. “Pepper doesn’t work for you, but I will work for her, if she agrees.”

“What?” Jane half stood from her chair.

“I’m not sure you understand how the interview process works, Lewis.” Tony moved to lean back against the wall, remembered the dust, and thought better of it – aborting his attempt to instead awkwardly cross his arms.

“Nope. I got it down. Now that I am done considering you for the position of boss, I’m going to move up the food chain and speak to someone with real power. You can chauffeur me, and practice your apology speech to Captain Flight-Risk on the way.” Her mind was made up, and Darcy had always jumped in with both feet. She was also not above using the Stark helicopter as a getaway distraction.

“Apology! I never said-”

“Darcy?”

“Don’t worry Jane,” Darcy smiled over her shoulder while she herded Tony out the door. “I’ll be back tomorrow afternoon. The next day at the latest. Try the whipped cream!”

“What will it take, Lewis? Name your price?” Darcy continued to ignore Tony and opened the showroom door. Thor was frowning at the Crema Mullida. His arm around Jane’s shoulders kept her in her seat.

“Darcy, I do not believe this is a food product.”

“Go,” she yelled over the rotors at Tony. “Fly, you fool!”  She pretended not to hear him over the noise outside, but it was more difficult to keep from wincing when Jane’s bellow hit her ears.

“Darcy! Where are we supposed to shower?”


End file.
